"It eats away parts of his skin; death's firstborn devours his limb. He is torn from the security of his tent and marched off to the king of terrors."

Once upon a time. Now that's an old way to begin a story. Stories of heroes, beasts, and of good and evil. As much as I might have wished, my story isn't like this. At least, not in the way one would think.

There was a time in which I was an ordinary man, and that was all I ever aspired to be. Well, not an ordinary man, not quite. A soldier. A great one, hopefully. But never in the deepest parts of my subconscious did I ever imagine I'd get as far as I have now.

Mankind, in my humble opinion, has our flaws, if that wasn't obvious enough. We are violent and warlike, and at the same time capable of such good that my long broken sense of morality finds hard to comprehend. But most of all, there is a struggle in the hearts of all men.

My story is one of struggle, of life and death and beyond, and of eternal duty. Of humanity's brightest spots of glory and its darkest pits of despair.

Not even in death does duty end. That'd be one of the first things I'd ever discover.

…

What should have been nothing washed over me. Not a nothing as in an empty room. Not just the darkness I found myself in, I mean nothing. Not even the thoughts that raced through my head. It should have been absolutely nothing, not even the feelings of both odd calm and well-placed unease I felt weighing in my gut like lead. Maybe it was lead, considering that I'm pretty sure I just got killed in the line of duty.

Soon, my mind moved beyond that. My eyes, if they were still even technically there, only saw an endless expanse of stars. At least, similar to stars. They moved past me almost like comets, infinite and unceasing. It was beautiful, in a way.

Maybe being dead made me appreciate the smaller things more.

As the minutes passed with my eyes taking in the lights, I slowly felt my body wake up, in a way. Before it had just been my mind that had been "alive" and awake, but now I could feel it. The air in my lungs, the beating of my heart, and the unease in my gut. I wasn't quite dead, it seemed. Now I could feel more, like the weight of my M1 helmet resting as it always has on my head. My uniform covers the flesh and bone of my form. Only my firearms (and all my weapons, for that matter) remained missing.

Lifting my hands to my face, I saw that I was whole, superficially. My hands, calloused and rough from my years of service, were dirty and scarred. The olive drab of my uniform was a little grimy, with blood staining its sleeves in some places or the other.

Whether it was my blood or not didn't occur to me.

So here I was. A man out of space, out of time, standing in a field of stars, still as blood soaked as I had been in life.

And just as sudden as I had arrived in this field, another figure appeared.

Cloaked in a khaki uniform, an Army tropical service cap from the war, and a corncob pipe in his mouth. Silver-tinted sunglasses adorning his face. Clean and pristine, wearing gold US labels on his collar, and a brown coat over it. He had the eerie visage of the late Douglas MacArthur, my personal hero.

There was only one thing off from the MacArthur vibe.

He looked like me. Like an exact copy of me.

…

"Rise and shine, Captain Tibbets. Rise and shine.", the man spoke with the smallest grin on his eerie face, the pipe barely muffling his/my voice. A gleam shone in the tint of his glasses, reflecting the light of the passing stars.

"...what…what are you?", I hoarsely whispered with my dry throat, my blood and dirt soaked face not impeding my ability to stare down this unknown.

"I'm many things, John. I could say I'm your guardian angel, and that wouldn't be too far off. Sorta. I could also say I'm just someone who's had my eye on you for a good while now.", the man grinned, blowing smoke from his corncob out of his mouth.

"Doesn't answer my fuckin' question, does it?", I spit back with a frustrated tone, my fist clenching.

"Look, John. You're confused. Angry. Probably wanna tear me to pieces simply for being the closest person in the 'room'...", he started, emphasizing the "room" with air quotes, "...but you're going to want to hear me out, Charlie."

A sense of unease began permeating my senses over the calm I had been feeling, my throat feeling cracked and dry.

"...How the hell do you know my name?", I asked him straightly, putting aside my rising, bubbling confused rage and the heavy feeling of a weight in my gut. I wasn't able to walk towards him, and if I did, I might've done something I would've regretted later on.

"Oh, I know lots about you, kid. John Charlie Tibbets, 26 years old. Born April the 12th, 1945 at 8:01 PM. United States Army, 101st Airborne. Served in Tiger Force, etc, etc.", the man paused, as his grin disappeared, "Killed in Action, March of 1971. Where, or when you were not a few minutes ago, by your senses."

I didn't speak. Nor did I avert my gaze, or yell, or scream.

I just stood there, staring at him.

"Every soldier, every warrior has his time, John. It was bound to happen someday. Your soul is restless. I can feel it. It thrashes back and forth, screaming in its bloodlust, in its desire for revenge. There was never going to be a future where you settled down, retired, had a family of your own. And you always knew that, didn't you?", the man told him without a smile or emotion. He stated it almost clinically in a way, simply stating the facts.

I knew what he was talking about. I just didn't want to hear it.

"Get to the point. I got killed. What do you want from me?", I spit back.

A small grin reappeared on that mirroring face of his, reflecting my own in a strange way.

I didn't exactly like it.

"Well, John…I've had my eye on you for a long time, you know. Your exploits on the battlefield, as well as your tactical prowess and leadership skill-", he started.

"Cut the flattery. Get to the point.", I glared.

He didn't say anything at first, simply reaching behind himself, and presented a gas mask. M17, from the Army.

My gas mask.

Tossing it at my feet, he continued.

"...You're a nasty piece of work in combat, and I've recommended your services to my…employers. Your actions in Africa, Indonesia, as well as your clandestine deployment to that Chinese rebellion, well…needless to say, as an old soul with a taste for battle, I am impressed. So I've come to offer you a job, so to speak. A contract with us."

"Lemme guess, you want me to sell my soul to your ass for…what?", I retorted, my vein slightly bulging from the still bubbling anger I felt.

"We don't want your soul, not exactly. There's no paperwork, no signing, and no immortal punishment. We…I want your assistance with a few things. A few places, an entire world with a great many…problems.", the man explained, blowing smoke out to the stars from the pipe again.

"You want my help? Me? John Charlie Tibbets? You'd do better finding someone else. Like ya said, I'm a bloodthirsty, vengeful bastard with a grudge.", I said, slightly incredulous at the offer.

"Have you considered that might be what we need? Why else would I have been keeping tabs on you? You, Charlie, have a talent for war. And I admire you for it, very, very much."

A pause as I processed his words.

"...I'll be frank with you, John. I wasn't lying when I said you're restless. We both know it. But I speak the truth when I say we want your help. You can join up, keep your uniform, your equipment, your guns…everything for use in the place I'm going to send you…us. Otherwise…"

He gestured to the endless expanse of stars surrounding us.

"I let you go into whatever awaits beyond the veil of death. I'm not quite allowed to say what's there, but it'd be an awful waste of your abilities, I'd say. Wouldn't you think?"

As he finished, he tilted his sunglasses down. And then I saw his eyes. They were like burning coals in a human eye, my eyes. When I looked into them, I felt the rage and bloodlust of millions upon millions. The spirit of ancient warriors, soldiers, everyone in-between. All lying behind his eyes.

I stared back. Not with fear, nor hatred. Just stared. Because part of it made me feel more welcome, if that made sense.

"You've got the stare, the look. The fire in your heart and soul. I think you're the perfect choice, Charlie. You know who I am, deep down, if not why you're here.", War grinned, almost like a giddy child. Both fascinated and curious, yet also bearing the face of someone who knew what he was looking at, and liked it.

Whatever this…thing…was, he was an oddly fitting person for me to meet after death. Horseman or not…

"...I don't wanna discuss this further. What the hell are you gonna do with me, now?"

"Oh, John, that's easy. I'm just gonna pop you in. A tactical insertion, deploying into the world. And just so you know, it's gonna look awfully familiar. Now, before you ask, I'm not sending you to Mars or any weird alien or fantasy world, not really. It's Earth. In fact, your home nation.", War grinned, expecting this intel to comfort me slightly.

…maybe it did, just a bit. Never would admit that shit out loud.

"So, you're sending me back to America? A version of America? That's it? Why?", I asked incredulously. There had to be a sort of catch, something fucked up.

"You're rightfully suspicious, John. There is a sort of…oddity. Not quite a catch, but let's say this world, this universe it resides in…has its anomalies. But I'll let you figure it out for yourself. That's assuming you accept my…our…offer.", War smiled slightly, both smug and friendly, somehow.

I mulled his words over in my head, turning it around, racking my brain for an answer.

Death or a job? Was that really much of a choice?

It should be obvious, no? Another life? Another chance? Who wouldn't?

…A part of him whispered, deep in his mind, to reject the offer. Die as God intended all of mankind since Eden, and to finally rest after his not so long struggle…

"God wouldn't want your skills to be wasted, trust me."

But then he remembered the face of his mother, his father, and his sister. Countless friends who cared about him. Who'd urge him forward no matter what.

The words they had said before his enlistment…

Be safe, be careful, don't do anything stupid.

And most of all, what came from his mother…

Come home alive.

And he knew what he had to do.

"It's a deal, War-whatever you are. It's a fucking deal. But I've got a condition."

"Oh? What's your price?"

"...The War. The bombs, the nukes. I want you to stop it. I want you to make it so that the war never happened, so the Germans didn't cross the Atlantic and the Japanese didn't push their luck with the shrimp boat. Turn back the clock."

"And if I can't stop the A-Bombs?", he asked simply.

At that moment, I felt it all come bubbling up. The legacy of a failed war, a humiliating surrender, and a 1950's filled with strife. The Japanese treaty ports, the German domination over Europe, the countless riots and protests and strikes from the communists and fascist sympathizers in our own people. Traitors, enemies. How the end of the war consumed his life since childhood, how I'd made a vow to myself.. That America would exact its retribution on all of them.

But most of all, from all this, I felt my own burning desire for personal vengeance, at all costs.

"...Then promise me America will raze both of them to the grown in victory, for good.", I spit out vehemently, finally letting all of it be felt in a single sentence.

A large grin grew upon War's face, as he stretched his left hand out to shake, and I took it and gripped hard, our calloused hands meeting.

"Deal."

"...So what happens now? What are you gonna do?", I asked, taking a deep breath as I felt my emotions subside from my outburst.

"Oh, don't worry. Let's just say I can fulfill both requests. But now, we get to work.", War responded.

"...we?", I asked again, a little incredulous.

War said nothing as my world became dark, and the image of his grin was burned into my vision.

"You died burning, and so we shall be reborn in the waters. We walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May our thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on our sword never dry, and may we never be needed again."

"Patriotism requires sustained sacrifice."

-Chiang Kai Shek

…

When I came to, I had to vomit out a shitton of water, and I could feel my lungs burn. It felt like my insides had been set aflame, burned by something like napalm. Phlegm exited as well, as my body attempted to recover.

I lay on my back, my helmet staying on my head, looking up at a blue sky.

Not a sky raked by atomic fire, ash, nor dust. An almost clear, blue sky populated by crispy, white clouds. Almost like it had or was going to rain. I heard the bustling of cars and people in the distance, chattering and honking, yelling or cheering or simply being there.

But most of all, I felt the dampness of my wet uniform and the crashing of the tide behind me, and the smell of the ocean filling my nose.

Whatever that thing, War, whatever it was, he wasn't wrong about that water comment.

Spitting out some leftover water and sand from my mouth and getting onto my knees, I swore with a gravelly voice, my throat feeling dry and sore, "...motherfucker,."

Cracking my neck, I looked around and patted myself down.

Uniform, check. Helmet, check. M1956 combat harness, check. M16A1 rifle, check. Bandoleer with assorted 12 gauge shells and 5.56 OFN magazines, check.

I felt my Ithaca 36 slung onto my back as I had left it, and my trusty M1942 machete hanging in it's sheath at the lower part of my back. My sidearm, an M1911A1, sat in its holster.

"...so he gave me my shit back, at least. Maybe he ain't all bad, hahaha…", I gave a tired chuckle, extremely pleased by the return of my small arsenal.

I laughed still, feeling a little delirious and a little edgy from all the excitement, even if my lungs hurt from the expression.

After a while, long enough for the clouds to roll across the sky significantly, I stopped and got up, sighing.

No use sitting around and going crazy. Get to work, John. Get on the case.

Ensuring I had everything on me, I dusted the sand off my uniform and rifle. It was still bloodstained and a little dirty, but it seemed like it had been cleaned since I had gotten my ass dropped by…God, I don't wanna call him 'War', but he didn't exactly give me the chance to swamp and compare business cards.

"...Ah, fuck it. Let's just see where we are first.", I muttered to myself, fixing my helmet to my head and slinging the strap of my rifle over me, letting the rifle itself hang over my chest, dangling slightly. It was still perfectly in reach in case of a sudden engagement, and always loaded. Safety was on, though.

Beginning my walk, my combat boots trudging and shifting in the sand, I listened to the crashing tide and the call of seagulls. I could hear the chatter of people nearby, so this must be a public beach. It seemed like it was America, like…he had said, but I couldn't tell for sure.

Up ahead, I could tell, were people. Dressed scantily for the beach, as was expected.

"Civilians…", I muttered to myself. Well, at the very least, I wasn't likely to be ambushed. Small comfort.

Though they probably wouldn't take too kindly to me showing up with my firearms out, though. Go figure.

From here, I could see there wasn't really a way past them. I had to get to a parking lot to get to the city, whatever city it was, and the only way was through the place currently occupied by dumbass civvies.

…

Screw it. If they ask, I'll tell 'em the truth that I'm Army. If they decide to stick their noses in, I'll just tell them to stick it where the sun don't shine.

Second Lt. John Charlie Tibbets got to marching.

…

The sun beat down on the resting body of Hannah Ahn Park, 24 years old. At the beach with a few friends, she had spent just about the whole afternoon messing around in the water with her girlfriends and all that. But now, she had the chance to rest. To calm down a bit.

With dark hair, bright eyes, and a build not too much on the petite side, Hannah was (she hoped) at least nicer on the eyes. Though she tended to dress more conservatively, not out of any tradition…more out of shyness.

Yes, she was a silly girl. Hannah kinda knew that.

Her sunglasses glinted in the sun, and she took a deep breath of that ocean air.

Perfect. Perfect weather, perfect sky, perfect ocean. Loving it.

A Bluetooth speaker resting in the sand next to her played, loud enough for others to hear, but not enough to disturb her rest. A love song from Korea that her sisters probably added to her playlist a while back…maybe. It's just as possible that she added it and forgot about it.

"I'm feeling lonely (Lonely)"

"Oh, I wish I'd find a lover that could hold me (Hold me)"

"Now, I'm crying in my room"

"So skeptical of love (Say what you say, but I want it more)"

"But still, I want it more, more, more…"

…She had to admit, though, it was a bit on the sad side for her taste.

One of her friends, Sienna, called out to her from the water, jogging up to Hannah's resting form, smiling and still soaking, saying, "Hey, girl. You already leaving us hanging?"

"Oh, don't be silly. I was out in the water all morning. Besides, I don't wanna look like a tomato after we leave.", she smiled back.

Part of her was still so shy about a small twinge of accent left over from her upbringing, but it didn't bother her as much as it used to. Honestly, if her friends and family didn't care, it didn't matter. She felt stupid thinking otherwise.

"Well, if you say so…", Sienna teased slightly, but her face held a small twinge of worry. Hannah was good at reading people, including the people she cared for. It was part of her job too, but she mostly did enjoy it.

"What's the matter? You didn't come up to just say hello, did you?", Hannah teased.

"Well…I dunno. Felt a bit…nervous.", she admitted.

"Well, what is it?"

"...so, don't freak out. For the past five minutes, I've been keeping an eye out on this guy coming up the beach, close to us. He's dressed in one of those old school army uniforms, and I think he's carrying guns.", she admitted quickly.

Hannah lowered her sunglasses and raised her eyebrows, before putting them back on after hurting her eyes thanks to the sun. She then asked, slowly, "...you are kidding me."

"No, I'm being serious. Look over to the left, carefully.", she told Hannah.

Slowly, she shifted her gaze to the left, and eyed up the man she spoke of.

The first thing Hannah did notice were the guns. A big black rifle hanging at the front and a wood pump shotgun on his back. A round helmet on his head with all sorts of knickknacks and a gas mask hanging at his belt, and a holster. She couldn't see everything from here, but he was getting closer and closer as he trudged across the sand towards them.

He wasn't looking at them, specifically, no. Just getting closer as he eyed everything nervously, his hands a little twitchy. Other beachgoers had given him a wide berth, some even looking like they were fleeing, which Hannah didn't blame them for. He wore the guns so openly and brazenly, it wasn't any wonder…

Yes, it did scare her for a second.

But Hannah wasn't exactly known for doing a skin-deep analysis of people.

She looked closer, beyond the helmet and uniform and the scars. Past the guns.

He was young, for sure. Maybe her age, or around it. His hair was a jet black that Hannah's grandmother would have compared to midnight, and as the man got closer, she saw the blue of his eyes, the color of a dark sea. It wasn't…a scary darkness, not in the way you'd think. It wasn't bad, it just…was.

"…so, kind of a looker? A gruff looking looker?", Sienna spoke suddenly.

"Oh, you be quiet. He's getting close, so shut up.", Hannah immediately chided, slightly shocked by her sudden change in mood.

None of this was occurring in a vacuum, though, because Hannah spotted him looking right back at them.

…

As I got closer to other living, breathing people, I noticed a few things right off the bat.

One, they didn't seem to be big fans of me, so far. I guess that was fair. Again, I'm the one with the guns, but…

Two, these people were…varied, to say the least. Whites, blacks. Asians, and they all had some…interesting choices of swimwear.

So, quite an introduction so far, eh?

Two people in particular stood out to me, because the were just about the only ones who were staring without backing away or doing the aforementioned fleeing. An East Asian girl and her white friend, staring me down not with fear, or loathing, just…intrigue.

I took a small breath as I approached them, looking them over. They were pretty, not taking into account the fact they were dressed for warm weather, but in all honesty, I was too fucking exhausted or paranoid to care.

Just being out in public like this was giving me the damn willies.

"...Ma'am.", I nodded to the two of them, doing my best to appear as non threatening as possible in spite of my current state.

"...are you one of those…what's the word, LARPers? Those airsoft mil-sim guys?", the asian asked me, raising an eyebrow, though her face wasn't that of fear, but more of…interest, intrigue.

Weird.

"...Uh…yeah, I guess you could say that.", I responded.

What the fuck did any of that mean?

"Oh, that's cool! I've watched a few YouTube vids about stuff like that, and it always struck me as odd, but everyone who does it seemed very passionate about it.", she smiled, as her friend raised her own eyebrow, a little incredulous.

"...thanks, miss…?"

"Ooh, so polite.", the white woman teased.

Ignoring her, the asian told me, "Ooh, my bad. I'm Hannah, and this is my friend Sienna. What about you, soldier?"

Hannah asked me this with a big grin, speaking in a tone I wasn't familiar with.

"...I'm John. John Tibbets.", I told her, actively struggling with myself to not state my rank and serial number with it.

"Tibbets, huh? That's a unique last name, I don't think I've heard that before. John, on the other hand…", Sienna trailed off, placing her hand on her hips.

Ignoring the last comment, I dryly responded, "Yeah, well, I guess I'm not exactly your average fella."

"Fella? Heh, you're really playing into that '50s white dude thing, eh?"

"...I…yeah, I guess so.", I half heartedly agree with a single raised eyebrow.

Okay, these girls talked funny and thought I was…wearing a very, very fucking realistic Halloween costume, I assumed. At least they weren't hostile.

The white one, Sienna, she struck me as the more sarcastic, witty one. Had a West Coast accent, but it didn't sound much like how I spoke. So I sure as hell don't know where War dropped me, still.

The Asian, Hannah, she was…well, she was a bit more captivating. Not in the 'Holy shit, she's smoking' way, but more in the personal way. Not that she wasn't pretty, but she had a more quaint attractiveness to her. Nothing flashy, just her being herself.

But what really struck me was her eyes. She had deep brown eyes that bored into my fuckin' soul, looking way past my guns and my uniform, everything but my very being. That, and how she looked unafraid. Just intrigue, curiosity, and a hint of concern.

But no fear. Why did that feel so odd?

Forcing myself to banish these thoughts to the back of my mind, I set myself back on track. I had bigger fish to fry than pussy-ass shit like that.

"Anyway, I wanted to ask…well, you both seem to be American, so…could you tell me where the fuck I a-", I started off after wiping the sweat from my forehead, underneath the brim of my M1 helmet.

"Hey, Sienna? Why're you and Hannah chatting up this white dude?", a sudden, female voice spoke up from behind us, as I swiftly jerked my head to face her, a reflex from my career in combat.

The newcomer was yet another white woman dressed for the beach, same age, the usual. God, I think I'm getting tired of seeing this type.

"Hey, Dani. You're here late.", Sienna noted as she walked over, beside me and facing the newly arrived Dani.

"Yeah, my bad. Shaun was a dumbass about something or the other. I dunno. I'm here now, though.", she shrugged.

Jesus H. Christ, why the fuck am I listening to this?

"...I don't have time for this.", I mumble to myself, preparing myself to just take my leave and find out where the hell I was on my own.

This is where I made my first mistake, by getting too close to Dani.

As I attempted to pass by the newcomer, with all my gear still slung or attached to me and my uniform, she immediately jumped back as her face took on a look of incredulousness.

"I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!", she damn near screamed at me with a high pitched, frilly voice, covering herself with her hands.

My brain took a second to process this sudden outburst, the only thing reaching my mouth being, "...ya…what?"

Hannah immediately attempted to intervene, trying to get between us, quickly spouting off, "Dani, Dani, calm down. John hasn't done anything wrong-"

Dani cut her off with, "Hannah, he tried to get close to me! What kind of pervy, right-wing freaks are you chatting up this time?", she spit out at her friend.

Trying to defend myself, while keeping a calm and stoic tone, I responded, "Hey, lady, I wasn't doing anything to you, I'm just trying to make my way past you. You don't need to treat your girlfriend here like shit 'cause of it."

"Fuck that. You're lucky I don't call the police, or worse, my actual boyfriend who doesn't dress like one of those '60s baby-killers. Fucking freak.", Dani continued her tirade.

Now I was really starting to get pissed off. Who does this bitch think she is?

"Hey, you're really starting to strike a nerve he-", I started.

"SHAUN! HELP, THIS CREEP'S TRYING TO TOUCH ME!", she suddenly screamed out.

"DANI, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!", Sienna shouted at her ostensibly former friend.

Hannah still trying to be the peacemaker, was trying to get between us.

I felt a vein in my forehead bulge as I felt that fiery feeling in my gut get stronger, pointing a finger in Dani's face and yelling, "You crazy fucking whore! You're lucky I don't kick your ass six ways from sunday!"

And that's when shit went bad.

I felt a sudden blow to the back of my head and shoulders, knocking me face first into the sand and knocking the wind out of me. Nothing broken, but it caught me off guard. I landed on my fucking rifle, too, before feeling it slip out of my grasp.

Attempting to recover, I curled up on my side and began trying to get up when I felt someone's leg kick me in the stomach three times, hard. My rib might have cracked, as I felt a stomp to my face, too. For good measure.

"Dani, you okay?", a male voice said, coming from over me.

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M OKAY?! THIS FREAK TRIED TO RAPE ME AND TOUCH ME AND SHIT!"

I was delirious. That fucking blow to my head had me seeing stars as I crawled away, a ringing in my ears making it hard for my brain to register the screams and yelling of Hannah at who must have been Shaun, and Dani, too. Think I heard Sienna joining in on Hannah's side.

Screams of terror and anger as all four of them argue.

"SHAUN, HOLY SHIT! THAT WAS OVERKILL! YOU COULD HAVE REALLY HURT HIM!"

"Hannah, what do you want me to do? He was trying to touch Dani? I'm not letting this honky ass try to hurt my girl."

"HE WASN'T, YOU IDIOT! DANI FREAKED OUT OVER NOTHING!", Hannah insisted, pleading.

"Don't listen to her, Shaun! Make sure that perv is eating out of a straw for the rest of his life!", Dani screamed with bloodlust.

"SHAUN, NO! PLEASE!", Hannah screamed in terror, trying to pull him away, I thought.

That scream. It was horrible. To hear it be so afraid and scared.

I felt that repressed range bubble again, flowing from my core into my head and body. Shit I hadn't been able to get out of my system for years, not until my deployments. That internal voice telling me to go all out on this fucker.

And for once, I didn't resist.

Getting up, slowly, I spit out some blood onto the sand and wiped some away from my mouth. Shaun and the rest were both distracted by the fight, so here's my opening.

Unslinging my Ithaca from my back, I gripped the stock and barrel tightly, feeling it's cold grip in my hands as I slowly approached Shaun while his back was turned away.

I raised the stock of the shotgun over my head, and I acted.

I slammed it into the back of his head, knocking him to the ground as he did to me, and repeatedly slammed the hard wood of the gun into him over and over.

Over and over and over.

I didn't scream or shout in my anger, I just silently grunted from the effort, ignoring the cries of Dani as she screamed in vain or the shocked, dumbfounded faces of Hannah and Sienna.

I beat the stock into Shaun even as he tried to crawl away, blood and teeth torn from him. The sound of a hard material hitting flesh permeating the scene. Bones breaking, cracking under the weight of my rage.

Looking back, I'm afraid I would've either killed him or broken my Ithaca if Hannah hadn't done what she did.

As I prepared another blow directly to Shaun's head, in spite of his cries of pain. Something miraculous happened.

Hannah, in vain, got in front of me, attempting to shield him in vain, shouting, "STOP, STOP, STOP! JOHN, PLEASE!"

That voice again, that which had brought me into this state of rage immediately jerked me out of it, seeing me in a position to strike Hannah as I did Shaun halted it.

"...I…Shit.", was all I could offer as I quietly backed up and slung the Ithaca over my shoulder once more as she breathed a sigh of being winded, and some regret..

All was quiet except for the groans of an injured man, a sobbing Dani, and the crashing of ocean waves.

…

"Clef speaking."

"It's Adams. Yeah, we've got a report down in the LA region about a guy dressed in some 'Nam LARP assaulting a dude? Apparently appeared out of nowhere on the beach?"

"That doesn't sound like a potential skip. That just sounds like the Los Angeles homeless population."

"...Could be right, but again, it is worth a check? Hell, maybe I'm wrong and this guy's just a mil-sim retard. But I could be right."

"Fine…just keep an eye out for more reports. I'll get some personnel on the internet and keep an eye out for social media bullshit. Don't make me regret it."

"Sir, when have I ever let you down~?"

"Frequently and recently."

"Fuck you."

AN: So yeah, SCP fic with Tibbets. It's 12 at midnight, but this is the culmination of almost two years of planning and discussing with friends about lore. So, a few statements. Yes, War is the Horseman of War. Yes, the scene with John and War was inspired by Gman and Half Life. Yes, the title is…a reference. Anyway I gotta get some sleep, join my discord if you got questions.

And be prepared for a very, very weird plot.